From The Ashes
by valleyforge
Summary: Crais & Talyn. Old foes and new friends. Contains spoilers from the final four episodes of season three.


Setting: Two solar days after Dog With Two Bones. Contains spoilers from 3.19 through 3.22.  
  
Authors note: A huge thank you to SciFiChick66 and DJ3cats for the beta!  
  
Disclaimer: Farscape belongs to the Jim Henson Company, Hallmark Entertainment, Nine Network Australia and the Sci-fi Channel.  
  
FROM THE ASHES  
  
A pungent, acidic smell was his first recollection upon regaining consciousness, followed closely by a stinging pain in his cheek where he had hit the deck. At first, Bialar Crais had no idea where he was, or how he had gotten there. A brilliant flash of light was the last thing he remembered. A faint blip and a single dull light flickering from the control panel refreshed his memory.  
  
"Talyn?" he called hoarsely, his throat parched.  
  
Crais pulled himself to his feet and stood, supported against the control panel. Command was dark with the exception of scattered emergency beacons, the view screen and door having been sealed. The smell again assaulted his nostrils. He remembered it well from having ordered many injured or aged Leviathans retired from Peacekeeper service. The charred flesh of a Leviathan had its own distinct stench.  
  
"Talyn?" he called again, unable to sense the hybrid's presence. Crais reached for the transponder at the base of his neck, but it was no longer there. Sinking to his knees, he began to make slow sweeps across the floor with his hands in search of the disk. He located it beneath the weapons panel, fortunately intact.  
  
He leaned against the bulkhead, resting his face against Talyn's course interior. Still slightly tepid to the touch, but void of the strong, rippling pulse, the Leviathan's skin offered a scant sign of life. Crais summoned a deep breath before attaching the transponder. For a microt he felt nothing. A moment later be began to scream.  
  
"Talyn no! Stop! I cannot..."  
  
He rolled on the floor clutching at the transponder, his cries echoing through the chamber. Gripping the transponder with both hands, he screamed a final warning, "You must stop. I will remove..."  
  
A shriek, unlike any beep or whistle he had ever heard Talyn make in the past, pierced command. The pain continued to sear through Crais, yet it was becoming tolerable. Talyn's initial response of channeling the pain to him was not only an act of self-preservation, but of fear. The hybrid was in agony and for perhaps the first time in his life, completely alone.  
  
"Try to remain calm," Crais gasped. "Show me where you hurt, Talyn. Show me the pain."  
  
The initial images were disjointed. They flashed past through Crais' subconscious in a surreal haze. He buried his face in his hands and tried to focus on them.  
  
"Slowly, Talyn. I cannot see...try to show me where you need help."  
  
The first recognizable location was the outer corridor on the uppermost tier. A small hull breach had caused two storage areas to lose pressure and partially collapse. Luckily, the bulkheads had been sealed or the entire level might have depressurized. The hull appeared to have burned through, which would account for the smell and his excruciating pain.  
  
Talyn was unable to open the command door or view screen. Crais suspected this might be due to his emotional state, rather than damage to his systems. The young Leviathan was frightened, disorientated and in a great deal of pain. Fortunately, his hygic and guidance systems had been disconnected while he was aboard the carrier. Since they had not been fused in the explosion, they should be easily brought back online. First, the more serious injuries would have to be treated, a job likely to involve repair on the outside of the hull, a monumental task for any one man. Crais doubted the hybrid would initially be of any assistance, other than visual.  
  
Until the threat of additional depressurization was eliminated, Crais decided a flight suit would be a wise precaution. The main landing bay would provide the closest gear, plus give him an opportunity to assess damage to the ship's other vital stations. He would be forced to travel via the atmosphere ducts until the doors were operational.  
  
After reassuring Talyn, Crais removed the transponder and entered the duct through an exhaust vent. He would reestablish the link periodically to apprise Talyn of his progress and check on his condition, but he could do nothing with the neural link intact. Even a small part of the Leviathan's pain was debilitating.  
  
He worked his way through the ventilation system, stopping at each access shaft to survey the damage. Despite Talyn's injuries, Crais knew they had been extremely fortunate. He had not expected them to survive. Scorpious's wormhole modifications to the carrier's hull had to be the answer. He and Talyn should have been reduced to particles when the energy surge failed to fully disperse. And what of the command carrier? The thought of his plan having failed, and of Scorpius's reaction, gnawed at his gut.  
  
Both the maintenance bay and medical rejuvenation, located toward the core of the ship, appeared to be in good condition. It made sense that the damage should be centered forward, and confined to the hull and outer tiers. The landing bay portals gave Crais his first glimpse outside the ship. The sight stunned him, stealing his breath like a kick to the belly. Ten samats of Talyn's treblin stabilizer were missing, snapped off parallel to the rear transport hanger. In addition to the effect on Talyn's helm and attitude control, the injury could impede his ability to channel the energy for starburst. It might also have explained the slight list he had noticed.  
  
Crais did not know if the stabilizer could be repaired and was also uncertain if it would regenerate itself. His worst fear...Talyn might be crippled. He stood staring out the portal for what seemed like arns, questioning what to do next. Decisions had never come this slowly or painfully for him in the past. Even his choice aboard the carrier, death, came with a strange sense of relief. In so many ways it solved everything...his responsibility for Talyn, his promise to Crichton, his need for revenge.  
  
Based on his initial reconnaissance, he suspected the transport pod in the aft hangar might have escaped serious damage. If he rigged a charge and activated it from the pod, he could destroy the hybrid. He could save himself. Talyn would never need to know. Though fleeting, the idea embarrassed him. It was the kind of thought Captain Bialar Crais, Peacekeeper, would have entertained. No, he would not abandon his friend. If death turned out to be the only solution, they would face it together. Again.  
  
He still had options, or so it seemed until a speck moving in the distance began to take on the outline of a ship. Without even a pulse pistol left onboard, he wouldn't be able to put up much of a fight. On approach it appeared to be a smaller vessel, possibly a prowler, on a trajectory straight for the hangar. One on one, he stood a chance, armed or not. He climbed back into the atmosphere duct above where the pilot would likely pass and waited.  
  
The ship entered slowly and lightly touched down. Crais knew what it was, but still could not believe his eyes. Even as the cockpit slid open and the lone pilot jumped onto the deck, he continued to watch from cover. When the ship's occupant was within arm's reach, Crais dropped down to his feet directly in front of him. The action met with the expected response, the barrel of a pulse pistol buried in his chest.  
  
"Damn it, Crais! Are you trying to get yourself killed," Crichton shouted, lowering the gun.  
  
"The command carrier?"  
  
Crichton locked eyes with the former Peacekeeper and nodded. "Gone in less than an arn, just like you figured."  
  
"Scorpius?"  
  
"I'm not sure. He was definitely *not* happy the last time I saw him."  
  
That brought a slight smile to Crais's face.  
  
Crichton let out a whistle. He clamped his hands on his hips and pivoted in a slow circle, then cast Crais a questioning look. "It's not that I'm not glad to see you, but why aren't you dead?  
  
Crais actually shrugged. "It must have been Scorpius's hull modifications. However, we did not come through it unscathed.  
  
"I saw that. How's Talyn?"  
  
His expression answered for him. "His injuries are substantial. A hull breach and broken stabilizer, that I know of. Because of his pain, I am only able to remain in contact for brief periods. Did you observe anything else upon your approach?"  
  
"That's what I saw too. Can you fix it?"  
  
Crais did not answer immediately, not wanting to admit that he simply did not know. "Where are the others?" he asked instead.  
  
It was now Crichton's turn to struggle for an answer.  
  
"Where is Aeryn?" Crais demanded next.  
  
As difficult as it was to say in the first place, Crais was also the last person he wanted to tell. "She left in a prowler."  
  
"Left? For what reason? Is she injured?"  
  
Crichton seemed uncertain, hesitant; behavior that Crais was not accustomed to seeing in the human. "She's fine. She left because..." he paused and let out a heavy sigh. "She just couldn't stay. In case you haven't noticed, things between us have been strained since, well-"  
  
"The other died," Crais finished the sentence. "Yes, a difficult situation."  
  
"Tell me something-"  
  
Crais shook his head and waved him off. "No, I will not discuss their relationship with you."  
  
"I want to know if we were different, the other Crichton and I?"  
  
It was not what he had expected and not an unreasonable question. His dark eyes examined Crichton closely. "He and I fought together against the Scarrans, the Charrids and the Colartas. We had to work in concert to survive. He may have come to trust me, to some small degree.  
  
"And I don't?"  
  
"No, you never have."  
  
"I could have been wrong about that."  
  
Crais gave him that familiar look of arrogant disgust. He walked over to the flight equipment locker and removed an atmosphere suit. "I suggest you put on one of these, unless you feel the suit you are wearing is adequate."  
  
"Adequate?" Crichton asked.  
  
"Several corridors have depressurized. Repair will likely involve some work outside the hull. I am not certain that Talyn has been able to maintain proper atmospheric levels throughout the remainder of the ship. Until we have assessed the extent of the damages I believe the suits would be a desirable safety precaution."  
  
"Sorry, I have to find Aeryn," Crichton said, shaking his head.  
  
He received a scathing look from the Sebacean, who approached and leaned within denches of his face. "Talyn needs help," he growled, fighting his temper. "We will need suitable transport in order to locate Aeryn. Your module is simply not sufficient. And what of the others? Where are they?"  
  
Crichton smoothed his hair back and cleared his throat, twice. "Actually, Moya was sucked through a wormhole."  
  
Crais stared at him without expression. After several microts of silence he strode to a bench, sat and began to fasten the buckles on his flight suit. Crichton pulled a suit from the locker and joined him.  
  
# # #  
  
While both men agreed it would be easiest to try to close the wound from the inside, it would require depressurizing another corridor to gain access. Crais believed that the breach should be confined to as small a space as possible. Subsequent contacts with Talyn indicated the Leviathan was stable, yet Crais feared any further depressurization could lead to a total collapse of the upper tier.  
  
Based on Crichton's description, the hole was about the right size to drive something called a Volkswagen through. Crais determined he would have to trim the dead skin with a prism laser, close then clamp the wound and cover it with a clorium fiber patch. Since the process was also going to hurt like hezmana, he prepared several injections of phenoc to deaden the surrounding tissue.  
  
The two men had just finished hauling their equipment to the hatch closest the wound and were ready to enter the airlock when Talyn began to thrash.  
  
"You think he's scared?" asked Crichton.  
  
Crais became obviously annoyed with the question. "Scared, Crichton? He could teach most beings a lesson in bravery. I would imagine he wishes to communicate something."  
  
"Roger that," Crichton replied in an apparent apology.  
  
Crais removed his helmet and attached the transponder as Talyn continued to pitch. The pain registered instantly in his face, but was quickly replaced by a look of apprehension. His breath quickened as gave his head a terse shake.  
  
"What the hell is it?" Crichton asked.  
  
After he removed the transponder, Crais stood quietly, staring, absorbed in his thoughts.  
  
Crichton chucked him once on the shoulder and hollered, "Damn it, Crais. Talk to me."  
  
"We have just been boarded."  
  
"Good guys?" he asked.  
  
"A marauder with a crew of eight commandos."  
  
Crichton rested one hand on Winona while he rubbed the back of his neck with the other. "That's not good. It's only been two days since you broke their favorite toy. That has got to be a guiness record for the shortest starburst ever made."  
  
"I believe the confined space in which it was initiated may have affected the distance," Crais explained. "There is something else. Scorpius and Braca are with them."  
  
"Thank you for sharing," he replied sarcastically. "Is there anything else? Is Commander Grazen along for the ride? Do we have a dreadnaught full of Scarrans off the port bow? Come on Bialar, don't hold back. Tell it to me straight."  
  
He ignored the human's comments. "I believe that Scorpius will make every effort to capture us alive."  
  
"You know, I think you're right. So he can kill us, slowly and painfully."  
  
"Yes, that is correct," Crais said, nodding.  
  
"We've got one gun and there're eight of them, ten if you include Wally and the Beav. How much help is Talyn going be on this?"  
  
Crais wet his lips and took his time answering. "He will of course provide reconnaissance, however since his weapons systems have all been removed that will be the extent of his assistance. We will have to rely on our own cunning to defeat them."  
  
Crichton wagged his head, unable to suppress a grin. "One shit load full of cunning coming right up. How about we demand their surrender and jump 'em while they're laughing."  
  
"I believe I have a plan. It will require some risk on your part."  
  
"Now why doesn't that surprise me?" Crichton scoffed. "Okay, I gave your last plan a ten for the beat and it was easy to dance to. Lay it on me."  
  
It took a microt for Crais to interpret what he thought Crichton said. He walked to the sealed bulkhead and ran an analyzer the length of the doorway. "The corridor on the opposite side of this entry is still maintaining proper life support. It runs for one hundred microns before the next bulkhead, which is also sealed and separates it from the depressurized chambers." He shot Crichton a quick glance to see if he was following, but did not wait for an acknowledgment one way or the other. "First, we must open this entryway. If you can lure the commandos into this corridor, I can attempt to seal the entrance behind them. If I am successful and can then open the next door, they will be swept into the depressurized chamber and outside the ship."  
  
"You're going to space them?" Crichton asked, his face twisted in disbelief. Suddenly something very wrong occurred to him. "Wait a minute, there's a slight problem here, El Capitano. I end up as space debris too."  
  
"You will be wearing a flight suit," Crais explained calmly. "We will tether you to the ship so that the vacuum will not jettison you with the commandos. Once the pressure has stabilized, you will work your way through the storage compartment, through the breach and along the outside of the hull to this hatch."  
  
"And what if they simply shoot me once they have me trapped inside the corridor. Or, what if you can't get the doors to open and close."  
  
Crais sighed. "We are in agreement that Scorpius wants us alive. The commandos will not risk disciplinary action by shooting you, especially since you will be unarmed."  
  
"Oh no you don't..." Crichton sputtered, laying a protective hand on Winona.  
  
"Fine. Then tell me, what is *your* plan? I believe our time is short, so please be to the point." Crais folded his arms across his chest and locked eyes with the human, waiting. Several microts passed in complete silence. Reluctantly, Crichton pulled Winona from his holster and handed her to Crais.  
  
"That still leaves Scorpuis and Braca, considering that they won't accompany the pack on the hunt," Crichton said.  
  
"We will deal with them when the time comes. I will establish contact with Talyn now to fix their present location. Opening this doorway must be our first order of business." He started to move a hand toward Crichton's shoulder and then appeared to think better of it. "If you die this day, John Crichton, rest assured it will not be by my hand."  
  
# # #  
  
Whether Talyn's pain had lessened, or the young Leviathan had learned to control it, Crais was now able to maintain their link via the transponder. Together they opened the first door. Crais felt confident that once the trap was set, they could quickly release the second, although Crichton was slightly more skeptical.  
  
The Peacekeepers had already advanced from the hangar to command, also traveling via the atmosphere ducts. Scorpius and Braca accompanied them, leaving a sole commando behind to guard the marauder.  
  
"You must make your move before they split their force," Crais directed. "Once the door shuts behind them, immediately secure the tether to the hull and brace yourself. The initial vacuum will be forceful."  
  
The human frowned, but nodded. "You *will* wait until I acknowledge that the line is fastened, right?"  
  
"Time is of the essence, Crichton. If you take too long, or are too obvious, they may suspect a trap. Their weapons are quite capable of swiftly blasting a hole through the door behind them. I do not need to tell you what happens in the event this plan fails."  
  
"Does that mean you'll wait?"  
  
"I believe I just said that."  
  
Crichton chuckled slightly, drawing a stern look from Crais. "You just make sure our boy Talyn doesn't decided to pull a repeat performance and space Crichton number one here. I've heard stories about what he did to number two, you know."  
  
The comment appeared to catch Crais off guard, as it took several microts for his response. "Talyn understands that you are not his enemy, nor his rival. And I no longer regard you as such. We will do our part." He gave the line fastened around the human's waist a sharp tug. Satisfied the connection was secure, he handed the line to Crichton. "Scorpius is trying to override Talyn's systems from command. You must hurry. I will keep you apprised of their location at all times."  
  
"Eight angry commandos coming right up," Crichton said, looking Crais hard in the eye.  
  
"Only seven," Crais corrected him, adding, "good fortune."  
  
Crichton nodded, turned and started toward medical rejuvenation at a trot. The five corridors, which separated the med lab from Crais's position, had all remained open and were connected at angles. This would allow him a degree of cover once the chase started. He still wasn't too enthused about his chances of outrunning a squad of prime commandos while wearing a flight suit. Although Crais assured him they were all in full battle gear and carrying pulse rifles, which should slow them, he could never bring himself to believe *everything* the man said.  
  
Crais had been correct about one thing; the interior rooms and passages showed very little damage. Other than a few scattered, broken bottles, medical rejuvenation had escaped unscathed. He hoped like hell the same could be said for *him* when this was over. The rattlers had already started to warn him otherwise.  
  
"Crais, I'm in position," he reported. "Is everything set on your end?"  
  
"Affirmative. The entire squad is presently in or within the proximity of command. I will advise you as they near your position. Be ready to move quickly."  
  
"Well, duh..." Crichton responded.  
  
"Initiate contact now!"  
  
Crichton snapped a crisp salute in the exPeacekeeper's direction. "It's show time," he muttered, taking a deep breath before opening the broadcast comm. "Crais? Can you hear me? Are you all right? Crais?" He paused. "It looks like Talyn's sustained heavy damage. All systems are inoperable...Crais, are you there?" Again, he waited.  
  
"I'm midship in the med lab. In case you can hear my signal but can't respond, I'll wait here for a while. Crichton out."  
  
"They are taking the bait," Crais reported a microt later. "The commandos are headed in your direction. Braca and Scorpius have remained in command."  
  
"ETA?" Crichton asked.  
  
Crais hesitated. "Eat what?"  
  
"Where the hell are they?" Crichton shouted.  
  
"Two corridors away from your position, just descending an access shaft to your level. They are unobstructed and moving at top speed. I suggest you withdraw."  
  
"I don't see any-"  
  
"Crichton, run!"  
  
The first commando to appear took aim, shouted and shot simultaneously. Crichton hurled an exam table over in his direction and dove for the exit. He rolled, scrambled to his feet and was running in one swift movement. He made the first corner and rounded it, a pulse blast striking the wall just behind him. The jolt rocked Talyn.  
  
"Damn it, Crais. They're shooting at me!"  
  
"Run faster," he advised.  
  
The angular route served its purpose of providing cover. The commandos remained a full corridor behind him. They had also stopped shooting, either waiting for a clear shot or on order from Scorpius. Crichton hoped like hell it was the latter. He raced around the last corner, passing the hatch where Crais was concealed and entered the sealed passageway.  
  
As he reached the closed door, the first Peacekeeper entered the corridor behind him. Crichton slapped at the controls, feigning a desperate attempt to open it.  
  
"Raise your hands," the lead commando shouted as the entire squad closed in behind him.  
  
Crichton stepped to the side of the door and reached toward the ring to connect the lifeline. The barrel of a pulse rifle jabbed into the small of his back, the force slamming him face first against the wall.  
  
"Get you hands up now!" a second, female voice ordered.  
  
He dropped the line and slowly raised his hands.  
  
"Turn around," she barked.  
  
"They are all within the trap," Crais reported. "Are you secure?"  
  
"No." Crichton said in a strained, low tone, turning to face the commandos.  
  
"Get clear of the doorway and brace yourself against the wall," Crais instructed. "I am closing the door in two microts."  
  
"Crais, don't you dare..."  
  
As the door behind them snapped shut, three of the commandos raced back toward the control panel. Crichton saw it in the redheaded soldier's eyes facing him. In that single moment, she connected the damage to the hull and the flight suit her captive wore.  
  
"Get out," she screamed, spinning to fire at the door.  
  
"Brace yourself," Crais shouted as the second door sliced open.  
  
The sudden vacuum flattened Crichton against the bulkhead like a bug on a windshield. The force swept the commandos' feet from beneath them, hurtling them through the doorway into the depressurized storage compartment. There were no screams, no struggles, only a gigantic whoosh . and they were gone. Crichton found himself staring at an empty corridor where a moment earlier seven young men and women had stood. As the pressure equalized, he slowly floated up and drifted away from the wall.  
  
"Crichton? Acknowledge."  
  
"You son of a bitch," he yelled at Crais. "I'm going to kick your ass for that."  
  
"You would do well to remember who is supposed to open the hatch for you," Crais replied curtly. "Hurry and make your way outside to my position here. We must move quickly."  
  
"Do you think I could wait until those seven people we just spaced finish turning blue?"  
  
He heard the Sebacean sigh. "They would have lost consciousness almost immediately and suffocated, Crichton. It is safe for you to enter the storage unit. Please do so *now*."  
  
Crais was not familiar with what Crichton had called him next; apparently neither were the translator microbes. It did not matter. The plan succeeded and the odds were suddenly almost even. The human simply did not seem to understand that in battle choices had to be made and actions taken quickly. Did Crichton honestly believe he did not understand the consequences of what he had just done? Whether killing on order as a Peacekeeper, or killing to survive them, it certainly made the victims no less dead. He watched as one of the commandos, a slender woman with flame- red hair, drifted past the portal. Her mouth and eyes gaped in a final, unfinished scream.  
  
"Crichton, state your position," he said in a voice suddenly passive.  
  
"Checking the interior of the storage compartment," he replied, also in a calmer, less hostile tone. "The only damage appears to be the hole and the good news is, the gap is much smaller than I originally thought. It's about three feet in diameter."  
  
"Three feet?"  
  
"One giant step," Crichton explained.  
  
"A giant's stride?" Crais asked.  
  
"The distance between your fat ass and the top of your pointy head," he snapped back. It was Crichton's turn to wonder what he had just been called as the comm abruptly disconnected. Knowing Crais, it was probably the Sebacean equivalent of sticking out his tongue. Drannit...whatever the hell that was.  
  
From the portal, Crais watched the human slowly emerge through the breach. Using gravity pads he worked his way hand over hand along the hull. His touch stung the skin surrounding the burn and the pain immediately bled back to Crais, who promptly removed his helmet and quickly disengaged the transponder.  
  
"Your movement in that area is extremely painful for Talyn," Crais warned. "I have had to temporarily disconnect the neural link. Please move carefully."  
  
"Understood," Crichton replied.  
  
Crais stood at the portal while outside the hull Crichton continued to inch his way closer. It was slow going. One slip now or a careless move and he was finished. When Crichton had advanced to within reach of the airlock, he inexplicably stopped short of the hatch. Crais read panic in his eyes.  
  
"Is there a problem?" he asked.  
  
Crichton nodded.  
  
"Do you require assistance?"  
  
"We've got company," he grumbled.  
  
Crais turned and found himself staring down the barrel of Braca's pulse pistol. Scorpius stood beside his lieutenant, regarding the exPeacekeeper with a contempt that had evolved beyond words. He walked to the portal, observing Crichton for a microt before turning back to Crais.  
  
"You fool...you stupid fool," Scorpius hissed into his ear.  
  
Crais raised his chin and turned to face the Scarran half-breed directly, satisfaction smoldering in his dark eyes. "Traveling a bit light these days, aren't you?"  
  
The back of Scorpius's hand lashed out and stung the side of his face, only to draw a smug, taunting grin from the exPeacekeeper. "We shall see if you are still laughing when I turn you over to High Command, Crais. I believe they will go to extreme lengths to make your death a memorable one."  
  
Crais managed another satisfied smirk. He turned his head to glimpse Crichton who was still positioned outside the portal, then cast Scorpius a questioning look. "Shall I bring him in or leave him out there to keep your commandos company?"  
  
Braca swung his pulse pistol, catching him solidly across the jaw. Crais dropped to his knees. Staring silently up at Braca, he wiped the blood from the corner or his mouth and massaged his chin. The lieutenant glared down at him, gulping air in short, choppy gasps. Crais had never seen such passion in his eyes before. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. "Lose someone *special* out there, Braca?"  
  
As he had expected, Braca lunged at him again, but this time Scorpius caught the lieutenant by the arm and pulled him off. "In due time, Braca. You will have your revenge. We both will."  
  
Braca swallowed hard and resumed his quintessential Peacekeeper posture. "Yes sir," he said, choking on the words.  
  
"Raise your hands before I set him loose on you," Scorpius instructed Crais. He approached and while never taking his eyes from Crais's, opened the collection pouch on the side of his flight suit and removed the pulse pistol. He also located and confiscated the transponder. "You will now bring Crichton aboard. Rest assured, I will not hesitate to kill both of you if you try anything."  
  
Crais turned to peer at Crichton through the portal. The human's dour expression mirrored his own. "Prepare to come on board."  
  
"Aye aye, Captain," he grunted. "You don't have any more of your great ideas, do you?"  
  
"Shut up, Crichton."  
  
"No, you sh-"  
  
Crais closed the comm and stepped outside the chamber. He extended an open palm toward Scorpius. "I will require the transponder to seal the chamber, open the outer hatch and complete depressurization."  
  
He immediately felt the barrel of a pulse pistol in his gullet. He tried to back away, but Scorpius kept the gun pressed against his throat. "You will do exactly as I have instructed you...manually or not at all. Do you understand? You will never communicate with the hybrid again. And once we depart, I intend to scatter his Leviathan carcass across this quadrant." Scorpius smiled, enjoying the fear Crais could only pretend to hide.  
  
Without Talyn's assistance it took a quarter arn to manually operate the hatch. During that time, the surviving commando reported that a damaged prowler from the carrier was on approach. The news was well received. The marauder required two pilots and Scorpius did not wish to remain aboard Talyn any longer than necessary. Although hundreds of prowlers and marauders had escaped the carrier's collapse, many were low on fuel and others were packed with survivors. The closest carrier capable of refueling and providing landing facilities for that number of vessels was still three solar days away.  
  
# # #  
  
Crais and Crichton entered the landing bay at gunpoint, their hands bound behind them. The prowler had already put down beside the first Peacekeeper vessel. The remaining commando blocked the entrance to the marauder, a pulse rifle at a forty-five degree angle across his chest. As the prisoners ascended the ramp, the guard stepped smartly back, snapping to attention.  
  
"Do we have sufficient firepower to destroy the Leviathan?" Scorpius asked Braca.  
  
"The marauder still has its full compliment of weapons," he replied. "It should be more than enough, sir."  
  
"Excellent," Scorpius murmured. "We will take off immediately. I wish to deliver these two to High Command without delay."  
  
As they entered the marauder, the butt of a pulse rifle smashed Braca alongside the head. His attacker quickly swung the barrel up into Scorpius's chest.  
  
"Drop your weapon," Aeryn Sun ordered. She wore the commando's uniform, her long, dark hair tucked inside a Peacekeeper cap. Without taking her eyes from Scorpius, she removed a stiletto from her sleeve and passed it behind Crichton. He and Crais quickly freed their hands and retrieved Scorpius and Braca's weapons.  
  
"You sure are a sight for sore eyes," Crichton said with a broad smile.  
  
Her response was humorless. "I can't leave you alone for a microt, can I?"  
  
Crais shoved Scorpius backward through the entry, then grabbed Braca by the jacket and pitched him halfway down the incline. "Get on your feet and move!" he growled. As Braca attempted to stand, Crais caught him with a boot and sent him flying into Scorpius at the base of the ramp. "Over there, against the wall," he motioned with the pistol.  
  
"Crais!" Crichton ran down the ramp behind him. "What the hell are you doing?"  
  
"What does it look like I am doing? I am going to kill these two before they cause us any further problems."  
  
Aeryn rushed to stand alongside Crichton, but remained silent.  
  
"You can't just kill them," Crichton said. "They're unarmed."  
  
Crais gripped the gun with both hands and leveled it at Scorpius's head. "I will not be hunted by this abomination for the rest of my life," he shouted. "Do you honestly believe he will just forget that we destroyed a carrier? His project?"  
  
"Listen to me," Crichton said quietly, approaching him. "You are not one of them anymore." He shook his head faintly as he searched for the right words. "Look, I don't know when and I don't know how, but at some point you changed. You're no longer a Peacekeeper, Crais. You're one of us. And we don't shoot unarmed men in cold blood. That's the difference between us and them."  
  
"If we let them go, we will pay with our lives," Crais protested, refusing to budge.  
  
"We don't have to kill them," he repeated.  
  
Crais cast a quick glance at Crichton, then Aeryn, hastily returning his attention to the prisoners. After several ragged breaths he finally lowered the gun. "Crichton is right," he snarled at Scorpius. "I do not have to kill you. Once Commander Grazen learns that it was *you* who authorized bringing an active gunship aboard, she will do it for me." He shifted his gaze to Braca. "And you were supposed to be watching me, weren't you, Lieutenant?"  
  
After relieving Scorpius of the transponder, Crais walked back and aligned himself with Crichton and Aeryn. Crichton reached over for the pulse pistol in his hand, but Crais jerked it away. "That is not necessary," he said firmly.  
  
"Yes...it is," Crichton insisted. "That's Winona." He extended his hand and offered Braca's pistol across in exchange. Crais rolled his eyes and traded weapons.  
  
"So what do we do with them?" Aeryn asked.  
  
Crais fingered his goatee, regarding Scorpius with an evil smile. "Officer Sun, how much damage has that prowler sustained?"  
  
"There is no damage," she replied. "That was only a ruse to access the landing bay."  
  
"Well then, once we have damaged it sufficiently, I believe we should set these two adrift." Crais hesitated, shooting an expectant look toward Crichton. "That is, of course, unless *you* have a better plan."  
  
Crichton considered the idea for all of a microt, grinned and said, "Let's do it."  
  
# # #  
  
Prowlers were not designed to carry passengers, only a pilot and a payload. It did not seem possible that the small ship could be made less comfortable, until Crais began making *modifications*. With Aeryn's assistance, he shorted out all but one of the lighting rods, dumped ninety percent of the remaining fuel, severed long-range communications, restricted the environmental settings, stripped every piece of padding and lastly, removed the sanitation receptacle.  
  
Being the least knowledgeable about the craft, Crichton was relegated to guarding the prisoners on deck. He watched Crais with growing amusement. Here was a guy who would not be content just to key your car; he would squirt glue in the locks, pour sugar in the tank and then slash the tires.  
  
When he had finished, Crais dropped onto the deck, striding purposefully past the prisoners. "Get that rubbish off of my ship," he instructed Crichton, turning back with his arms folded across his chest.  
  
"Aye aye," Crichton snapped, nudging Braca in the back with Winona.  
  
Scorpius turned to face the exPeacekeeper, his words soft and slow. "You will pay dearly for what you have done." He looked next to Aeryn and finally Crichton. "You all will."  
  
Crichton gave him a shove toward the prowler. "I hope that cooling rod still has a few good days left in it."  
  
Once inside the cockpit, Scorpius leaned forward to catch Crichton's eye. The human stared back, waiting. "Don't think this is over," he said in almost a whisper.  
  
Crichton slammed the canopy shut. "Have a nice trip and don't forget to write."  
  
The three watched in silence as the prowler drifted free of the landing bay and disappeared into darkness. Crichton held his breath as Aeryn approached him from across the deck. He had ached to speak to her earlier, but knew the time was not right. He turned and smiled softly, hoping she had reconsidered her decision to join the exPeacekeeper unit. Instead of stopping, she continued past him without a glance and approached Crais.  
  
"You certainly are full of surprises," she said, standing very close to him.  
  
A vague smile accompanied his slight shrug in response.  
  
"Talyn?" she asked.  
  
"His injuries are substantial, however I believe we can repair the damage. He is comforted by your presence." Crais motioned in the direction of the marauder with his head. "Without his weapons or the immediate ability to starburst, Talyn is vulnerable. This ship will afford us protection and mobility during his healing process."  
  
"Then Talyn is still...Talyn?" she asked at somewhat of a loss.  
  
Crais's eyes widened slightly and it took a microt too long for his reply. "I had not had sufficient time to disconnect his cognizant functions. Yes, he is still Talyn. However, without his weapons I do not see that as the problem it once was."  
  
Aeryn's expression remained stoic. She placed a hand on Crais's shoulder and leaned forward, whispering to him. His eyes blinked shut for a moment. She stepped back, smiled at him and nodded. Although he fought it, he could not prevent a faint smile in response.  
  
From the corner of his eye, Crais caught sight of the one crewmember who was not smiling. He clasped his hands behind him. "I must report to command now. I wish to spend some time alone with Talyn, assessing the damage and reassuring him. I will communicate our intent to repair the breach and devise a plan of action." He retreated several steps before addressing Aeryn. "Crichton will apprise you of the events that have transpired in your absence." He turned and briskly exited the landing bay.  
  
It felt like an eternity after the sound of Crais's footsteps faded before Crichton finally spoke. "Aeryn, we have to talk."  
  
"No John," she said firmly. "Right now, what we have to do is help Crais and Talyn. Then we must rejoin Moya and the others." Her eyes narrowed. "Where are Moya and the others?"  
  
"The others?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck. "That would be one of those *events* Crais was talking about."  
  
"John, where is Moya?"  
  
"Wormhole," he muttered. "They went through a wormhole."  
  
Aeryn's breath escaped into an anguished sigh. She turned her back to him. John walked up behind her, hesitating before he lightly rested his hands on her shoulders. "I'm sure they're okay. As soon as Talyn is able, we'll find them."  
  
Aeryn slowly came round to face him. She bit at her bottom lip, nodding. "And then . we'll talk." The lines in her face softened as she regarded him for a moment. Before he could say a word, she backed away. "We should go assist Crais now."  
  
Crichton raised his palms. "Crais said he needed some time alone."  
  
She rested her hands on her hips and raised one eyebrow. "And you always believe everything he tells you?"  
  
He grinned and shook his head. Together, they set out for command.  
  
THE END 


End file.
